The lone turtle dove
by Sherlocked-blogger
Summary: John Watson, spending Christmas again feeling empty, and had finally cracked.
1. Chapter 1

Great. It's that day again.

John had been rolling himself over for hours, putting himself off getting up. But he finally, with much effort, pulled himself to sit up in bed. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. The street outside was unusually silent, but then it would be for Christmas Day. John sat staring at the wall for a few minutes, and if you saw him, it looks like he was in deep thought, but you'd be wrong to think that. In actual fact, he wasn't thinking, he was empty. Nothing was running though his tangled mind at all, it was empty. He was empty. His life was empty, since the incident, from two years ago. Another Christmas without him.

John didn't really see the point in actually putting energy that he didn't have into moving over and getting up. 'But I guess I have to, to put on a brave face for Mrs. Hudson'. He didn't want to upset her, and reveal to her the excruciating pain he was going through, just to be up and walking around and talking and doing normal things. But she did her best to try and help john, and said she was cooking him Christmas dinner, so he couldn't refuse. He strolled over to his wardrobe, opened the door, and looked at the clothes. He didn't really think about what to wear he just stood there staring, thinking how pointless it was why he should chose a special outfit because it's a special day, when it is no special day at all. It's a stupid day why do we all have to celebrate it, why can't I be left alone in peace? Despite this, he grabbed a shirt. He did the buttons up wrong as he wasn't concentrating, and didn't even notice. He pulled over his head a jumper, and then put on his trousers. He didn't bother brushing his hair. 'Who's gonna care about how I look it doesn't matter.' He then got his bits together, and set off for Baker Street.

Walking up through Baker Street, John couldn't push away the pictures in his head any more. Memories were all around him now, with a filmic quality filling the street, of John and his friend rushing about the streets, shouting at each other, calling for cabs...  
'That is enough of that'. John shook his head and started pacing up the street a bit faster, to escape this. He reached 221b, the one place he could ever call home after he returned from the army. No other place was good enough to be called a home, not really, not without his best friend. He stood and let his eyes explore the numbers on the door number b. He took a second to collect himself, before knocking.  
"John! How great to see you dear"  
"Hello Mrs. Hudson, you look lovely"  
"Aw thank you John, and Merry Christmas!"  
"Yes, um a Merry Christmas to you"

Immediately after stepping into the hallway, he noticed the smell, that one smell that each house has. He loved the smell of 221b. That homely smell. The only other time he really appreciated this smell was the very first time he entered the house, and met the tall skinny man. The day his life changed. The smell was still there. "Come on in then don't be shy". But for a few seconds, John just rotated on the spot, and closed his eyes. He remembered what used to happen here, in this place of adventure. Even just in the hallway, where they would be having a normal conversation, or arguing, or, in those rare moments, when they would share a laugh. With his eyes still closed, he almost exposed a glimmer of a grin. But he was suddenly thrown back into the depths of a painful reality the second he opened his eyes.  
"I said Christmas lunch is nearly ready, I just need to lay the table"  
"Oh sorry I, I didn't hear you-"  
"That's alright dear, and can I take your coat, where is it?"  
"Oh, I didn't bring one."  
"It's freezing cold out there, you didn't wear a coat?"

They went through the apartment, and John helped prepare the table. He did whatever mrs Hudson asked him really, and was almost unable to do anything for himself. After half an hour of setting out the food, they both sat down to eat. Mrs Hudson ate the most, with John mainly picking at his food. "So, have you got a new job now?"  
"Yes I am working at that Doctor's general surgery a few streets away"  
"Are you enjoying it?"  
"Well, it's calm and yes I attend to it well"

'Calm'. Exactly the opposite to what his life previously involved. It was a huge change in lifestyle. In all honesty, no he didn't like it. But he didn't like much else. Mrs Hudson tried to make soft conversation with John, without bringing _him_ up. The gentle conversation lasted throughout their food, although John's dialogue was mainly short and simple. They finished their food, and so John got up from his seat. "Just going to the bathroom"  
"Ok dear you know where it is"

John took himself out, and then took a detour upstairs quietly. 'I shouldn't be doing this, I should not go up'. But he couldn't resist, as much as he knew how much it would hurt. He reached the last step, and then passed the threshold, ready to be engulfed by heartache and was being drawn back to his past life, which he has not yet really let go off, but there's one problem. John is not sure if he can ever let go.

He pushed open what was once a familiar door, and was immediately flooded by emotions. He was immediately overwhelmed. The mirror, the wallpaper and the pictures hanging on the wall, and his books all on the shelf; so much still there, even though a lot of his old belongings were cleared up into boxes.

He suddenly found himself on the floor, scrunched into a ball, sitting crossed legged. When he noticed this, he pushed himself back up to his feet, and happened to be facing the mirror. The mirror in which he used to be able to see his room mate in the background, leaping around, talking to himself, being clever, being himself. Why wasn't he there anymore? Why isn't here here with him!? Why is he spending Christmas Day and all the days to come, feeling alone and despaired!? In a frantic rage John ran to the mirror and smacked his fists against it. The mirror shattered across the room and over johns head. His hands were hurt. He looked back in the mirror at his face, blotching red, and with the tears rolling down it and pulled his hair. He let out a groan of frustration and fell to the floor. There was now blood in his hair, where he had touched his head. His hands were bleeding badly, and he was now sitting in a pool of shattered glass.

There was so much blood pouring from his hands, and yet the true pain laid within. He quietly sobbed to himself for a few seconds before mrs Hudson ran up to discover the cause of the noise. She did not ask him many questions, she understood john, and instead she just helped him and cleaned him up from the blood.

They had a few cups of tea, before John suggested he leave. He thanked her and apologised for the mess he caused. Mrs Hudson said he was welcome back any time. Mrs Hudson also would not let him go without seeing he went in a taxi, as it was so cold and he didn't have a coat. She was rather persistent and John didn't want to upset her, so he called for a cab and thanked her one last time.

There was more than just Christmas Day that John wanted to end.

Unfortunately, the driver had taken the route that passes St Barts hospital. John had managed to avoid that gruesome place for quite some time, yet has failed today. He looked up at it. "Actually, if you could just stop here please"

He paid the cabbie and got out. Without taking any notice of his surroundings, he marched straight to the hospital. He went straight through without any trouble, and up each fight of stairs. He finally reached the top, the rooftop. He looked around, and then went to sit on the edge. 'So this is what view he had when he was up here.'

John had to speak out loud to his old friend, in order to let out his repressive emotion.

"I've just come to say hello. Just wanted to see it from your view, to go through what you did. Because I know that you are real. Why you went through with what you did, I guess I'll never know. But I want to feel what you felt. And I will never feel that unless I jump."

John was ready for this. He had nothing to lose. "I want to join you, Sherlock. There is nothing for me in this world, my world, was you sherlock, and with you gone, you've taken my life with you, my soul is with you. Nothing but a body remains in this world. So I need to be with you, and it will never be the same, with just the two of us against the rest of the world, but I can try. I can try to find that world with you again. And I am ready"

And with that john shakily raised himself. "I am ready to join you. I am ready to once again say hello to Sherlock. I need you. The only way I will be with you is to jump, so-

"No it isn't the only way"

John turned around and there he was.


	2. Chapter 2

John recognised this familiar, deep, soothing voice. He saw him, standing there on the other side of the roof.

"John.."

He was still standing on the edge of the roof. He started shaking.

"I'm so close to seeing you already, it's working" John said calmly. "I just need to jump, then I can be with you forever, properly"

John turned to face his fall.

"nO JOHN STOP" Sherlock frantically made a run for John, but he had already started descending. "JOHN"

Sherlock leapt in mid air, in a dive to reach out for his friend. His hand wasn't going to make it. John was falling. Somehow, Sherlock's hand found John's wrist, and was holding him, letting John hang from the top of the hospital. Sherlock was panting and let out a noise of heavy strain, as he was using all his strength to keep a hold of John Watson.

"John, I'm sorry, I didn't want to reveal myself to you this way however you left me no other option." sherlock paused. This was very difficult for him, as he was not ready to apologise and suddenly go back To normal. "John. I'm alive. my suicide was a fake, set up, but I did it for you, please understand that"

Sherlock looked pleadingly into John's eyes as he started to pull his old friend up, as he was still hanging off st Barts. But he resisted. "I know that you're not real, you're Part of my imagination, I'm hallucinating just let go and we can be together"

"no, please try to understand. It is clear that you are still traumatised, but trust me, I am very much alive, and have been since I jumped. It was just a magic trick John, but now the trick is over. P- Please, just let me pull you up and I can explain.."

Sherlock had a firm grasp of John's wrist, and pulled him slowly back up. "No STOP I WANT TO DIE" he was still resistant to being saved, as he triesto swing himself around as he dangled from the rooftop.

"I NEED TO BE WITH MY ROOM MATE, MY FRIEND, THE PERSON I LOVE. LET. ME. FALL.." And with that john swung his arms, legs and whole body with such force, which out sherlock in a desperate position that he couldn't hold on any more.

He fell.

Sherlock released a heartfelt scream of terror, as he watched His only best friend gracefully plunge to the cold ground. It was a silent fall. Everything else was still and tranquil for just a few seconds, as the army doctor found peace in his fall.

In the momentum, his body rotated and he could see sherlock, which would be his last encounter with him. He saw sherlock, but not his face full with terror, just his silhouette. John smiled. He saw Sherlock as he descended and smiled: 'see you soon' he thought, just before he shattered onto the pavement.

Blood, tears, and a body.

He looked like a lifeless rag doll, carelessly flung onto the floor by an ungrateful child. A small crowd gathered around, and tried to attend to John, but Sherlock knew, it was too late. 'How could I let go, WHY DIDI NOT KEEP HIM SAFE?'

Because Sherlock only did all this to save John, but has ended up doing the exact opposite. Sherlock knew this. He looked down and stared at John. People started to point at Sherlock, and he knew they were talking about what they just saw. To them, it looked like Sherlock threw John off the building. Sherlock paced around the rooftop, trying to think, but he couldn't, all he could think about was John. If Sherlock Carried on, he would be arrested for manslaughter or murder Most likely. But he didn't care about this. He just knew that the one person he ever truly cared about in his life, and actually cared about him, was gone. He had no one. Sherlock had been liviNg on his own for the past two years, and was not prepared to live on his own for the rest of his life.

So Sherlock took a familiar position. He stepped up. He took a deep breath. He looked down at John."Hold on, my blogger. I'm coming. And then it will be the two of us against the rest of the world again"

And with, he leant forward. He saw John for the whole way down. He smiled and took death gracefully. He slowly closed his eyes and then hit the floor.

Once again, they were side by side. The Consulting Detective and his Blogger.


End file.
